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Archive for the tag “collective unconscious”

I said that in a conversation with a friend the other day. There was no correlation to any one thing I remember talking about. It was just a stand-alone thought. This sort of thing happens often with me, seeming, usually, completely disconnected from whatever train of thought or flow of conversation I’m having in that moment. Most people, even those closest to me, miss it. That instant when my consciousness gets invaded by my subconscious, and my Freudian Slip starts to show.

I used to miss it, too.

But a lot has happened over the last year so that, on this day, I didn’t miss it at all.

I, and most of my nearest and dearest, have had a hard year. I can’t explain why. Okay, maybe? The same way people try and explain how a half-a-dozen women, in regular near-proximity to each other, seemingly sync their periods. Or how, when you buy a make and model of car you never really gave much thought to, and then it seems like that same car is on every street, and in every parking lot, everywhere you go.

The collective unconscious, manifested.

And no, I don’t believe for one minute that, like periods or late-model cars, any of my friends and I wanted our collective shits to happen, but maybe there’s something equally invisible going on that drew us all together before, so that we could be here for each other in the during, and rejoice with each other in the after. Because that’s why human beings have friends.

“Please, may I have a coma?”

Now that the end of another November is here, and with it, the end of another National Blog Posting Month, I think it’s time for a re-examination. Priorities that held this priory together last month, last year, last life, no longer belong in my life. Things that once felt important, no longer feel that way. And I’m educated guessing that the same is being said by many of my friends. But human beings are nothing if not creatures of habit. One of those habits is holding onto to things we’ve outgrown, or that have outgrown us. I don’t know what you’ve outgrown but, like a closet full of last decade’s fashion disasters and fat pants, for me, it’s time to make room for something new, or maybe for nothing new at all, but only for what’s most important.

Because a closet full of winter coats does you no good if you live the rest of your life in the sunshine.

“Please, may I have a coma?”

Okay, but only for a little while. It’s time to empty out my storage, give away what I won’t be needing, and decide where the sun shines brightest for me. But don’t worry. You’re ALL my friends. And I’ll leave breadcrumbs on the trail, wherever it is I go.

Thank you for reading my words these last 30 days. And thank you for allowing me to spend it reading yours.